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peopleofthedas2010-10-24 02:51 am
amhran_comhrac) wrote in peopleofthedas2010-10-24 02:51 am
Prompt response: Gwaren
Prompt: Take a minimum of two chars from DA (Origins or Awakenings). It can be two major NPC's, your PC, minor chars, whatever you want. Set them in another planet, or to the future, or the past. Set them in another game world, a book setting, a TV series or a film.
Title: Gwaren
Characters: Loghain/Rowan/Maric
Rating: G? probably.
Word Count: 959
Summary: This is ripped shamelessly from elsewhere. When I came up with the idea I thought it was quite inspired and perhaps genius. However, this was several beers into the evening, at some point between when my roommate's band finished their set and I began to hit on the keyboard player for the headline act. So YMMV since I'm still not quite sober and decided to run with it anyways...
A good chunk of the dialogue is direct from the source of inspiration. And if you don't recognize it... I weep for you. Not sure if this would actually count as AOA universe... but sure, why not. Loghain will show up eventually. *shrug*
Gwaren
He sits at a table in the darkened room, a half-finished glass of whiskey sitting before him, ice melting in the heat. With a sigh Loghain picks up the drink and tosses the last of it back, grimacing slightly.
The click of a door opening echoes in the late night silence. High heels click against the red tile floors. “Maric thinks I’m leaving with him,” she says, not bothering to greet him in her distress. Twisting a hand through her hair, pushing it from her face despite not a strand being out of place, she made a sound of frustration. “Haven’t you told him?”
“No, not yet,” Loghain said quietly.
“It’s all right, though, isn’t it? You were able to arrange everything?” Rowan twists her hands together, not bothering to hide how nervous she was.
“It’s fine,” he assured her. “Everything is quite all right.”
“Loghain!” she exclaims, frustrated at his obvious lack of concern.
“It’s fine,” he repeats again. “We can tell him at the airport. Will you trust me.”
“All right,” she says, going silent as the door opens once more.
“Loghain,” a warm voice calls. “I don’t know how we could ever thank you.” Striding into the room, the blonde man favored him with a warm smile before setting his hat on a table.
“Save it,” Loghain snaps. “We still have lots to do.”
“Here,” the man said. “I brought this money for you.”
“Keep it,” Loghain said. “You’ll need it when you get to the Free Marches.”
“But we had a deal?” he said, sounding confused.
“Never mind about that,” Loghain snapped, pushing back from the bar with an attitude of annoyance. “You won’t have any trouble in Kirkwall, will you?”
“No, it’s all arranged.”
“Good,” he said. “I have the letters of transportation right here, all made out in blank.” Setting two sheets of paper in front of him he looks up. “All you need to do is fill in the signatures.”
“Maric Theirin!” a voice calls. All three turn to see a man striding towards them.
“You are under arrest.” He clearly enjoyed the discomfort on their faces.
“Surprised? You can thank my friend Loghain.”
“Not so fast, Cerolic,” Loghain said, calmly pointing a gun at the newest arrival.
“Have you taken leave of your senses?” Cerolic said, horrified.
“Clearly I have,” Loghain replied. “Now sit down.”
“Put the gun down!” He begins to stride towards Loghain, looking nervous but confident.
“Cerolic, I don’t want to shoot you, but I will if you take one more step,” Loghain said calmly.
Without another word Cerolic falls back into a chair, his face still contorted in shock.
Several hours later Cerolic steps from a car at the airport, Loghain close behind him. No casual observer would realize the hand in Loghain’s pocket was holding a gun, still trained on him. Maric and Rowan follow close behind.
“Cerolic, you should have one of your men go with Mr. Theirin and take care of his luggage.”
“Certanly, Loghain,” Cerolic replied, not bothering to hide the sarcastic tone of his voice. “Anything you say.” A well dressed servant appears from the darkness, picking up the two suitcases and spiriting them away.
Loghain takes the papers out once more and places them on the hood of the car, handing a pen to Cerolic. “Why don’t you fill out the names,” he suggests. “Mr and Mrs Maric Theirin.”
Rowan snaps to attention. “Loghain,” she says. “Why my name?”
“Because you’re getting on that plane,” he replies calmly.
“I… I don’t understand.” She stares at him, confused. “What about you?”
“I’m staying here,” Loghain explains. “Until the plane is safely away.”
She takes a step back. “No, Loghain. No! What happened? What changed? Last night you—”
“Last night we both said a great many things,” he replied. “You said I was to do the thinking for us both. Well, I’ve done a lot of it since then and it all adds up to one thing. You’re getting on that plane with Maric where you belong.”
“Loghain, no!” she exclaims. “No, I—”
“Listen to me,” he calmly says, cutting her off. “Do you have any idea what you’d have to look forward to if you stayed here? Nine chances out of ten we’d both wind up in an Orlesian concentration camp. Isn’t that true, Cerolic?”
“I’m afraid Severan would insist,” he answered, signing the papers.
“You’re just saying that to make me go.”
“I’m saying it because it’s true,” he replied. “Inside of us we both know you belong with Maric. You’re part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that plane leaves and you’re not on it with him you’ll regret it.”
“No!”
“Maybe not today,” he said. “Maybe not tomorrow. But soon, and for the rest of your life.”
“But what about us,” Rowan asked, the pain in her voice making no secret of her agreement with Loghain.
“We’ll always have Orton Thaig,” he said, offering her a sad smile. “We didn't have, we, we lost it until you came to Gwaren. We got it back last night.”
“When I said I would never leave you,” she completed sadly.
“And you never will. But I've got a job to do, too. Where I'm going, you can't follow. What I've got to do, you can't be any part of. Rowan, I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you'll understand that.” She begins to cry softly. He reaches out, brushing a hand along her jaw and lifting her chin until their eyes meet. “Here's looking at you kid.”
Title: Gwaren
Characters: Loghain/Rowan/Maric
Rating: G? probably.
Word Count: 959
Summary: This is ripped shamelessly from elsewhere. When I came up with the idea I thought it was quite inspired and perhaps genius. However, this was several beers into the evening, at some point between when my roommate's band finished their set and I began to hit on the keyboard player for the headline act. So YMMV since I'm still not quite sober and decided to run with it anyways...
A good chunk of the dialogue is direct from the source of inspiration. And if you don't recognize it... I weep for you. Not sure if this would actually count as AOA universe... but sure, why not. Loghain will show up eventually. *shrug*
He sits at a table in the darkened room, a half-finished glass of whiskey sitting before him, ice melting in the heat. With a sigh Loghain picks up the drink and tosses the last of it back, grimacing slightly.
The click of a door opening echoes in the late night silence. High heels click against the red tile floors. “Maric thinks I’m leaving with him,” she says, not bothering to greet him in her distress. Twisting a hand through her hair, pushing it from her face despite not a strand being out of place, she made a sound of frustration. “Haven’t you told him?”
“No, not yet,” Loghain said quietly.
“It’s all right, though, isn’t it? You were able to arrange everything?” Rowan twists her hands together, not bothering to hide how nervous she was.
“It’s fine,” he assured her. “Everything is quite all right.”
“Loghain!” she exclaims, frustrated at his obvious lack of concern.
“It’s fine,” he repeats again. “We can tell him at the airport. Will you trust me.”
“All right,” she says, going silent as the door opens once more.
“Loghain,” a warm voice calls. “I don’t know how we could ever thank you.” Striding into the room, the blonde man favored him with a warm smile before setting his hat on a table.
“Save it,” Loghain snaps. “We still have lots to do.”
“Here,” the man said. “I brought this money for you.”
“Keep it,” Loghain said. “You’ll need it when you get to the Free Marches.”
“But we had a deal?” he said, sounding confused.
“Never mind about that,” Loghain snapped, pushing back from the bar with an attitude of annoyance. “You won’t have any trouble in Kirkwall, will you?”
“No, it’s all arranged.”
“Good,” he said. “I have the letters of transportation right here, all made out in blank.” Setting two sheets of paper in front of him he looks up. “All you need to do is fill in the signatures.”
“Maric Theirin!” a voice calls. All three turn to see a man striding towards them.
“You are under arrest.” He clearly enjoyed the discomfort on their faces.
“Surprised? You can thank my friend Loghain.”
“Not so fast, Cerolic,” Loghain said, calmly pointing a gun at the newest arrival.
“Have you taken leave of your senses?” Cerolic said, horrified.
“Clearly I have,” Loghain replied. “Now sit down.”
“Put the gun down!” He begins to stride towards Loghain, looking nervous but confident.
“Cerolic, I don’t want to shoot you, but I will if you take one more step,” Loghain said calmly.
Without another word Cerolic falls back into a chair, his face still contorted in shock.
Several hours later Cerolic steps from a car at the airport, Loghain close behind him. No casual observer would realize the hand in Loghain’s pocket was holding a gun, still trained on him. Maric and Rowan follow close behind.
“Cerolic, you should have one of your men go with Mr. Theirin and take care of his luggage.”
“Certanly, Loghain,” Cerolic replied, not bothering to hide the sarcastic tone of his voice. “Anything you say.” A well dressed servant appears from the darkness, picking up the two suitcases and spiriting them away.
Loghain takes the papers out once more and places them on the hood of the car, handing a pen to Cerolic. “Why don’t you fill out the names,” he suggests. “Mr and Mrs Maric Theirin.”
Rowan snaps to attention. “Loghain,” she says. “Why my name?”
“Because you’re getting on that plane,” he replies calmly.
“I… I don’t understand.” She stares at him, confused. “What about you?”
“I’m staying here,” Loghain explains. “Until the plane is safely away.”
She takes a step back. “No, Loghain. No! What happened? What changed? Last night you—”
“Last night we both said a great many things,” he replied. “You said I was to do the thinking for us both. Well, I’ve done a lot of it since then and it all adds up to one thing. You’re getting on that plane with Maric where you belong.”
“Loghain, no!” she exclaims. “No, I—”
“Listen to me,” he calmly says, cutting her off. “Do you have any idea what you’d have to look forward to if you stayed here? Nine chances out of ten we’d both wind up in an Orlesian concentration camp. Isn’t that true, Cerolic?”
“I’m afraid Severan would insist,” he answered, signing the papers.
“You’re just saying that to make me go.”
“I’m saying it because it’s true,” he replied. “Inside of us we both know you belong with Maric. You’re part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that plane leaves and you’re not on it with him you’ll regret it.”
“No!”
“Maybe not today,” he said. “Maybe not tomorrow. But soon, and for the rest of your life.”
“But what about us,” Rowan asked, the pain in her voice making no secret of her agreement with Loghain.
“We’ll always have Orton Thaig,” he said, offering her a sad smile. “We didn't have, we, we lost it until you came to Gwaren. We got it back last night.”
“When I said I would never leave you,” she completed sadly.
“And you never will. But I've got a job to do, too. Where I'm going, you can't follow. What I've got to do, you can't be any part of. Rowan, I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you'll understand that.” She begins to cry softly. He reaches out, brushing a hand along her jaw and lifting her chin until their eyes meet. “Here's looking at you kid.”